Disclaimer: I don't own AoS. I think we all know AoS wouldn't have done what it did in S2 if I owned the show and if you don't know, I invite you to look at my tumblr – it'll become clear sooner or later :P I also don't own The MCU, the Avengers or anything to do with the character of Natasha Romanoff – If I did, we'd have Romanoff Merch, we'd have a Black Widow Movie, and well, if I owned the MCU, I'd find a way to talk Robert Downey Jr. into doing an Ironman 4. Somehow. :p Or maybe a WarMachine Movie with Tony Stark as a supporting character (actually, that's a good idea. Can we have that please, Marvel?)

Note 1: After this chapter, Skye will drop out of the narrative for a while. On the plus side, for fans of Clint Barton/Hawkeye, at least, he should be showing up in chapter 6. As with Romanoff, I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to get him right, so feel free to correct me (politely) if you think I do him wrong.

Note 2: Skye is, as this chapter shows, in a dark place. But this is not a Skye-bash, and I am not here for a Skyebash. If you think my writing is bashing her, then either you misread something, or I've failed to communicate her state of mind properly. If you feel like I am bashing her (or otherwise casting her as some terrible person for the way she's thinking on Ward), please tell me. I'm more than willing to explain my meaning, and if I am in fact failing to communicate her state of mind properly, I need to know so I can correct it.

Thanks to colormeblue/Riley Holden for beta-reading.

Ledger Dripping Red

By Alkeni

Chapter 5: Remanded Into Her Custody

The Playground

October 4th, 2014

Skye hadn't been sure what to expect when she saw Romanoff leave Coulson's office – complete with AC in tow – and then watched them go down into Vault D. Her attempt to watch them through the Vault's cameras was futile, however – Coulson must have shut them down again.

Why ? What was so important? What was the business between The Black Widow and Ward that was so important and super-secret that she wasn't allowed to know? She needed to know what was going on with Ward – she needed to stay inside his head so she could interrogate him. The very idea... she didn't want to think about him, didn't want to be in his head, but it was what Coulson needed, what the team needed, what S.H.I.E.L.D. needed, so she would do it.

Romanoff clearly had issues with the way she'd spoken to Ward and Skye had spent the last ten minutes stewing over the red-haired woman's words. She knew why she'd said them. She refused to believe that Ward had been suicidal. To believe otherwise would be to accept that the monster was human, and he wasn't. He was a murderer, a serial killer and a liar. He really had been a robot, for all important intents and purposes. A soulless killing machine.

He couldn't be killing himself because he felt despair at what he'd done. It wouldn't be because being kept in a light-less cell in total isolation was as destructive to him as it would be to a real person. Because Ward wasn't a real person. He wasn't allowed to be.

Skye needed him to be a monster.

Her breath had caught in her throat and she'd nearly forgotten to resume breathing when she saw Ward, AC and Romanoff come out of the cell. Coulson was in the front, Ward behind him – why the hell would AC leave his back turned to Ward? - and sure, the sick bastard was in handcuffs: those heavier, more solid ones that were supposed to be a lot harder to slip out of – but...

What the hell is he doing out of his cell!?

She followed them through the playground's security cameras – she'd made it so she could access them from her tablet months ago – and watched the three make their way into the infirmary. But as soon as she switched her view to the infirmary cameras, those were suddenly cut.

It wasn't like AC to keep her in the dark. Not so obviously, anyway. She knew he didn't tell her everything – he had the entire agency to run. She didn't need to know everything. She still wanted to know everything, but she understood now just why S.H.I.E.L.D. had hidden information so much, both from the outside world and even from within – Hydra hadn't invented information compartmentalization. They'd just used it to their advantage.

But if it had to do with Ward – she needed to know it. It was Ward. She deserved to be kept in the loop about everything that sick son of a bitch did. After what he'd done to her, after how he'd tricked her into falling in love with him-

You tricked yourself, Skye. Skye ignored that little voice. It didn't really matter – because Ward was her problem, and if it involved him, she deserved to know.

It was just that simple.

She needed to be reminded every day just what he was, just how evil he was. Because every once in a while, her traitorous fucking brain, would give her dreams. Nice happy dreams where Ward wasn't a monster. Where they'd had that drink and then had a happy relationship and were still having a happy relationship. Where-

And Skye couldn't afford to even imagine that in a dream, let alone actually have it happen in a dream. Because Ward was Evil. Evil.

Skye stood, making her way to the infirmary. She was about to barge in through the closed doors when Coulson stepped outside. He looked up and then saw her. Surprise was on his face for only a moment, quickly replaced by resignation.

"Skye. There's a reason I cut the camera feeds." So it was about me.

"And why the hell is that?" Skye demanded. "Ward's my responsibility – what the hell is so important that I'm not allowed to know it? And what does the Black Widow have to do with anything?" She saw Coulson suppress a bit of a sigh as she used the title 'Black Widow'.

"Ward was your responsibility. He's not going to be anymore. I'm remanding him to Agent Romanoff's custody." Skye blinked. Wait, what?

"You can't – Ward said he'd only give the intel to me. You can't just hand him over to someone else!"

"I can and I have," Coulson replied. "I was never happy about sending you down there, and I wasn't happy about having you make that file about his past. But I did what needed to be done. There's another option now. The last thing you need, the last thing any of us needs is to be thinking about Ward. Or interacting with him. He was here because this was the best place for him. Agent Romanoff's custody is the best place for him now." Coulson spread his hands a little. "I trust her ability to get the information out of him."

"I need Ward here in Vault D because then I'll actually know where the bastard is – behind a laser barrier he can't get through!" Skye replied. Coulson couldn't just do this.

"Ward, even at his best, was never able to beat Romanoff. Believe me, I've got the sparring records to prove it. That fact hasn't changed. And he's being fitted with a tracker – if it really matters where he is, I'll let you know when you ask. But he's not your problem anymore. You don't need to keep thinking about him and what he did to you."

"Why? Why the hell are you handing him over to Romanoff?" Yes, Skye usually didn't curse this much in one short span, mentally or otherwise. But she was so – Skye closed her eyes a moment and forced herself to take a breath.

"Because she can handle him. And because she has a history with him as well," Coulson answered after a moment.

"A history?" What exactly did that mean? Skye could make guesses but that's all they were and – Ward had never told her he'd even known Black Widow. Idly, a tiny part of her wondered why she never actually asked, back on the Bus, if Ward had known or even met Hawkeye or Black Widow. They'd all been agents, technically, and it wasn't an impossible thought. But she'd just never asked.

"A history," Coulson confirmed, and Skye could tell he was deliberately not explaining what exactly he meant. "The decision's been made, Skye. Ward isn't your problem anymore."

The hell he isn't! Ward was always going to be a problem – always going to be a damn problem until she could finally put him out of her mind and the only way that was going to happen was when the bastard was dead, after he'd given them every bit of intel he had on Hydra.

If you want him dead that badly, then why did you-

Skye shut that line of thought down immediately. She'd analyzed that moment on the plane too much – she knew she'd made a mistake then. She'd been weak and pathetic. She should have let Mike kill him then but she hadn't. She had to live with those consequences.

But living with those consequences meant she had to be the one to deal with Ward.

Skye clenched her hands into fists. "Fine."

A part of her wondered why she was so upset – she hadn't wanted to go see Ward. She didn't want to have anything to do with him...

But she was. Because she didn't want Ward gone from Vault D. She needed to be able to know exactly where he was. Needed to be able to face him and remind herself what he was. And now... and now Coulson was taking it from her out of some misguided needed to help her.

"You do have other responsibilities," Coulson said lightly. "Any progress on Garrett's writing?"

"Still no." Skye debated asking about his source for the additional ones but she'd done that before – and she'd probably do it again – to no avail. And right now she wasn't in the mood for AC being all mysterious, even if he actually had a good reason.

"Keep on it," Coulson replied. "And keep monitoring Hydra channels. Right now, we have a tap into their communications – sooner or later, they're going to realize we have it, but in the meantime, let's make the most of it."

Skye nodded. AC was right about that. "I'll keep you posted."

Natasha Romanoff's Safehouse

October 4th, 2014

Grant had been silent the entire time between getting the implanted tracker and their arrival here. The safe-house was a small country cottage in the mountains and she'd landed her quinjet – a 'gift' from one of the Hydra bases she'd taken out alongside Rogers and Clint a month after the Triskellion. Complete with cloaking, it made moving around much easier. Couldn't exactly use it in most residential areas – cloaked or not, it did make some noise – but it was useful. And armed. Always good to have a plane fully equipped when you were technically a terrorist.

Not that I think the US government is very likely to arrest me just for being S.H.I.E.L.D.

She'd attended those congressional hearings before finally walking out, and it had only solidified her position in the eyes of the public. It had been... very counter to what she was used to, to be so public, but she'd gotten that after the Battle of New York to a degree. And even if her face was known, Romanoff – well, she was a spy. A known face couldn't really do much to stop her.

Grant walked into the small four room structure – they were both standing in a combined kitchen/dining room. Romanoff walked right behind him. Here would do for now – Grant was out of the cell, which was what mattered the most, and it was a secure location.

"Sit." She gestured to the small table, with four chairs arrayed around it. Grant obeyed without question. Romanoff pulled out one of the other chairs and sat down. "Let me clear, Grant. This isn't going to be easy. And I have to repeat this; this isn't about your former team forgiving you. If Coulson never forgives you, he never forgives you. If the science twins don't, they don't." She'd read up on Grant's team, as much as she could, and quizzed Hill about them. "The same holds for May... and for Skye." She saw the slightest flinch at the mention of her name. Grant had kept himself in shape in his cell, more than she'd actually expected, but the same couldn't be said for his ability to hide what he was thinking. He used to be more unreadable than this.

But then, maybe it's just because it's Skye.

"They don't have to forgive you. You betrayed them. Lied to them. Nearly killed a few of them," Romanoff continued. Before she could say anything else, Grant muttered something. She couldn't make it out, so she looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"It was supposed to float," he said softly.

"Hm?" Romanoff arched an eyebrow carefully.

"The medpod. It was supposed to float. That's why I dropped it. To get them out of the plane, away from John... keep them alive." Grant looked away from her. "And it didn't. I don't even know... I know Fitz is still alive, but the rest of it... Coulson never told me what happened-"

"I can find out," Romanoff told him carefully. "But whatever your intent behind dropping that medpod, FitzSimmons nearly died. I don't know if it would help or not if they knew, and that's not the point, Grant. Because, like I said, they have every right to never forgive you. Even if you save their lives a hundred times, even if you spend the rest of your life trying." She managed a small laugh. "Even if you help save New York from an alien invasion."

Grant looked back at her. "If you don't think I can ever be forgiven, then what's the point? Why am I here, Natasha? I belong in that cell."

"No,." Romanoff told him firmly. "No matter what you've done, no matter what you do, you don't belong in that cell. Not a cell owned and operated by the people you hurt the most with your actions. Not a light-less little hole that isn't even a proper prison cell." She leaned in a little. "And I didn't say you couldn't ever be forgiven. I said that the people you hurt might never forgive you, and they have every right not to. And I told you the first time, this isn't about forgiveness. This is about wiping out the red in your ledger." She had a feeling that Grant was going to get sick of hearing that before this was done, if she had to keep reminding him of the point.

"If you think you belong in that cell, then why did you leave?" She asked him, settling back in her chair.

"You said you'd knock me out and carry me out yourself if you had to." Grant pointed out. "You keep your threats, and I prefer to remain conscious and aware of the world around me." He bit his lip, and Romanoff wondered at the surprising loquaciousness of the man. By the standards she was used to, this was very talkative. He talked a lot when it was business, when the job required it, for mission planning, but this was not a mission.

"And that was the only reason?" Her eyebrow was arched again. Grant shook his head, shrinking back into himself a little. "Skye? Do you think she's going to-"

"I just..." Grant said softly, "I just want her to be able to look at me with something other than hate and disgust. Even that much is too much to ask..."

"Too much to ask of her, maybe. Not in general. But I'm pretty sure that the ship has sailed with her – She told you that you should have tried harder to kill yourself." She shook her head. "Pinning your hope on her-"

"If I can't pin hopes on her, I have nothing to pin my hopes on," Grant interrupted. "She's..." He closed his eyes and looked away. "I know it's more than I'll ever deserve. But it doesn't mean I don't... it doesn't mean I don't want it. Just that I know that I can't have it."

Romanoff nodded. "As long as you understand that, we might make some progress." Grant shouldn't be pinning his hope on her. Skye shouldn't be his hope – it was pretty clear that her hatred and disgust ran right to her core now.

Her reason for taking Clint's offer when he'd made his different call had been less... poetic. Even when she'd worked for the Red Room, she'd hated it. At the time, she'd seen little issue with the things she did for them but she didn't like them, the way they punished failure, all the things they'd done to her. Didn't like them and desperately wanted to please them all at the same time. She couldn't just leave them, couldn't just abandon the Room... but...

And she suspected Grant had had some of the same issues if he'd dropped that pod to save his friends lives. A victim's relationship with their brainwasher was always going to be complicated.

Her choices with Clint really had been take his offer or die. And killing for S.H.I.E.L.D., for the Red Room? At the time, the difference hadn't seemed all that important. She'd had plenty of time since to... have perspective. To understand just what making up for what she'd done meant.

"I told you it won't be easy. I'm not going to say living with what you did will get easier. It might even be harder. But you were brainwashed, Grant. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move on to the next part."

Romanoff stood up. She was getting sick of seeing that beard on his face. It was so very... disconcerting. Not like Grant at all. And she didn't think he was going to be ready to really take the first step just yet.

"But in the meantime, follow me." He stood up without any further prompting, and she walked him to the bathroom door. "There's a razor and shaving cream in there. Get that thing," she gestured to his beard, "off your face. Unless your opinion on having facial hair has changed since I knew you."

"It... it hasn't," Grant confirmed. "But... you're going to trust me with a razor?"

"Are you going to try to kill yourself again?" Grant shook his head. "Then I don't see the issue. Besides, I'm going to watch you to make sure you don't. But that beard needs to go." She imagined he could probably pull off a bit of stubble, but that beard – it just didn't work. And as she'd known, he really didn't want it.

She could understand why Coulson had denied him anything to shave himself with, while he was in that cell. But he was out of it now.

Grant nodded and walked inside, opened the medicine cabinet to take out the razor and set to work. Getting rid of all that facial hair wasn't a quick one and done thing, but Romanoff watched. She didn't really think she needed to, but she wasn't going to take the chance. Not when he'd been so desperate to die, at one point, that he'd just thrown himself at the walls. Finally though, Grant was done.

"Better?" Grant didn't say anything, but after a long moment, he nodded. "Good." She gestured to the other bedroom. "There are clothes in there. Since Skye went and deleted all the S.H.I.E.L.D. files on you, I couldn't just look up your clothing size." S.H.I.E.L.D. files had everything on a person. Clothing sizes were just the beginning. Romanoff had done what she could to wipe her own files from the internet as well, but she had to admit that Skye's job on wiping Grant and the rest of the team had been very well done. "But they should fit. I'll be in the kitchen when you're done."

There was nothing sharp in his room for him to use, just in case. If he was inventive enough, she was sure he could do something, but she also knew how long it should take him to just get dressed.

Fortunately for everyone involved, she didn't have to go check on him. Romanoff was leaning back against the counter a little, her hands resting on the edge. Grant came back in.

"Good. Now, since you're going to be staying here for a while, you can earn your keep. We both know you're the better cook." She gestured to the cabinets and the refrigerator. "So cook some dinner. I'm sure you're sick of the food they fed you in that cell."

Grant blinked. "I'm the better cook? Natasha, that would imply that you can cook. About all you can do is make a sandwich or microwave something." Well, as far as Grant knew, he was right. She'd been taught how to cook by the Red Room like she'd learned so many other skills – an assassin needs to be able to blend into nearly any circumstance, and you never known when the opportunity to just poison your target's meal might come up.

But Romanoff also hated cooking. Back when she and Grant had been partners, he'd never assumed that, as the woman, she'd be the one to cook if they were both at the same safe-house or something. He'd had more self-preservation to even think that, and really, Grant wasn't that sort of guy. He had assumed they'd take turns, if they were somewhere for an extended period of time, such as for surveillance or longer jobs. Which was a reasonable assumption... but again, she really hated cooking. So she'd 'proven' that she couldn't cook anything worth a damn and fobbed the job off on him.

"Well, I did feel the need to add just how much of a better cook than you were." In some things, he was better. And at the very least, he was willing and able.

Grant looked at the cupboards and the refrigerator, then stood still. For a second, Romanoff wondered if she'd made a mistake. She knew Grant liked to keep busy which was the reason she'd told him to cook. But he had just gotten out of a prison cell. A particularly terrible one at that. But the concern ended after a second when Grant opened one of the cupboards and saw three boxes of the same breakfast cereal, then looked back at her. "Lucky Charms?"

She could get the question, and the tone of almost 'really' that he managed to have. She'd been staying at Clint's house one morning and the kids had insisted she have some – and as it turned out, she'd liked them more than she'd expected. Sure, Lucky Charms were basically sugar in a bowl with milk added, but they tasted good.

Romanoff shrugged. "What can I say? They're magically delicious." She suppressed a small laugh.